pity sex
by anillegiblemess
Summary: the new world is a cruel, cruel place to john egbert.


It was your 20th birthday, and Dave had invited you over to his house for a party that he had hosted just for you.

Dave's house looked different, enveloped in smoke, lighting low and dimmed down. He was sitting next to you on the couch, beer and champagne bottles littered around on the floor, in between the cushions. He passed the bong back to you, and you took a long drag, inhale and hold, let it soak into your lungs. You exhaled, full and lightheaded. You held your drag, you didn't cough. Dave seemed impressed, and he smirked at you. His sunglasses were left on the table, and all you could see was the slight glint of his red eyes, bloodshot from his high.

Everyone else had left. It was just you, your thoughts and your best friend. You were stoned out of your goddamn mind, watching the walls melt and shift into colors. Your head didn't feel attached to your spinal cord, just floating. You were sinking back into the softness of the plush material beneath you. Your mind was fuzzy, dizzy from the alcohol, and probably the drugs too.

How late was it? It felt like hours had passed. You thought briefly about how you should get home. You mumbled something along those lines to Dave, and tried to stand, but you stutter stepped and found yourself falling. Dave caught you, dragging you back and urging you to stay. His arms felt like safety… Almost.

"You should stay, John. It's okay if you spent the night, I wouldn't mind, really." He reassures you. The slur in his voice sounds sickeningly sweet. Some type of adoration drips from his words like honey. You were too fucked up to understand.

You feel warm hands curl up your torso, underneath your shirt. You squirm. Dave's hands are tight on you, and he holds you. At first, it's kind of ticklish, and you start laughing. What was he doing? He laughs along with you, and continues, his fingers brushing your nipples.

"Oh my God, _stop_ Dave." You breathe through laughs. It's a little weird. You don't think you like where this is going. You hope he doesn't feel your scars underneath your chest. You try to add some command in your voice, but Dave doesn't seem to get it, and continues.

You squirm again. This isn't safe. You don't like this. You want to tell him. You want to move, but the intoxication keeps you rooted where you are. You're trapped, and panicking, breaths coming fast now. Dave moves his hand down to your pants.

"Dude, please, I'm serious." You slur, and try to move his hands away from you, but he blocks your movements, taking both of your skinny wrists and pinning them behind your head.

"It's okay." He shushes you. He repeats this phrase over and over, but it really doesn't help you. He's going to figure out your secret, in the worst way possible. You felt tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes.

You hear your pants being unbuttoned, and he slips his free hand past your boxers. He leans over and kisses your cheek, and when he brushes past your clit, he smiles, "I thought so, you fucking tranny."

Heat rushes to your face as you feel yourself blush. You feel disgusting, violated, "Get off me, Dave. Seriously, please…" You're crying now. Tauntingly, he takes his fingers from your entrance and wipes your tears away. He repeats that it's okay. It's not okay. Is it really okay?

Hands go back to where they were. You feel too weak, too tired to try struggling some more. You give in as he pushes his fingers in you. You moan. It feels good. You hate this. Please stop, why was he doing this? You were friends. Really good friends. He hooks his fingers, rubs against a sensitive spot. You arch your back, doing your best to try and stop yourself from sounding like you enjoy what's going on, because you don't. Do you? Your clit aches for touch, for attention. You want to die. You hope Dave murders you.

He takes his fingers out. Hastily, you scramble off the couch, trying to get away.

"I'm not done yet, bitch." He grabs you, and the movement startles you. Your glasses fall from your face as you whip around to shrug him off. Disoriented, you trip and fall. Your head hits the corner of the glass coffee table, and you black out.

Gold sunlight washes into your eyes. You blink and groan. Your head throbs, skull feeling like it's about to split at the seams. You hiss with pain, clapping a hand to the side of your scalp. You can feel a large bump underneath your jet black hair. You try to clear the fog from your brain and reach into your memories from the night before, but everything is blurred and blackened out. Upon looking and assessing your surroundings, you find yourself on Dave's couch. There were various alcoholic beverages on the table, along with his bong and a bag of weed. Your glasses are folded neatly on the table, and you pick them up and put them on, the world coming back into focus. A soft blanket covered you, and you were still wearing your day clothes from yesterday.

The smell of breakfast wafted from the kitchen nearby. The shape of Dave appears, and in his hands he carries a plate of eggs and bacon.

"Morning, sunshine." He says. He already has his ironic sunglasses on.

You shake your head of sleep as he comes near you and hands you the plate, "What happened last night?" You take the breakfast from him and start nibbling on the bacon.

"You got _super_ fucked up last night. You tried to go back to your place, but you tripped and hit the edge of the coffee table. That's why you got that big bruise on the side of your head. It knocked you out, so I put you back on the couch and let you sleep it off. I was gonna take you to the hospital if you didn't wake up, but, well."

You nodded, grimacing as the pain kept stabbing you, "Yeah, I was wondering what that was all about. I think I'm okay, I have a bump but it doesn't seem serious."

"That's good. Feel free to stay a little longer, I don't mind." Dave sat down next to you on the couch. The movement startled you, and you flinched. Panic washed over you. Something was wrong. You didn't get it. Why were you so afraid?

"Dude, you okay?" Dave asked, noticing your fear.

"Dave. Dave what did you do to me last night?" Why were you accusing him? You didn't even know what he did. Wait, you did know. He tucked you in and let you rest. That was it, right? Your heart was beating a million times a second. Why couldn't you just calm down?

"What are you talking about? I just told you, I put you to bed. You must have had a nightmare while you were out or something." He answered so casually, but a flash of concern did cover his face. A part of you believed him, but another part was still tensed up, on the defense.

"I… I don't know. Sorry, I didn't mean to accuse you of anything like that. I don't know why I would think that. I mean… You're my best friend, you would never hurt me…" You trailed off, staring at the sunny side eggs you hadn't touched, the half eaten bacon now growing cold. You sighed, "I think I should just go home…"

"Sure. Feel better, man." He took the plate from you, and you went ahead and gathered your things, finding your shoes at the front door and putting them on. You walked down the road back towards your place. When making a place for you all to live on Earth C, your living quarters had been grouped close together as you all considered yourselves friends and wanted to be near one another. Your house wasn't far from Dave's and the rest of the Beta Kids.

It was quite early in the morning from the look of the sun on the horizon. It's rays washed the nicely cut, suburbia style lawns in a shade of cantaloupe orange. Birds talked to each other in the trees, singing their songs of dawn. A cool breeze skidded the streets, and a brief feeling of yawning loneliness fell upon you. You bunched up the hoodie you were wearing and drew its hood over your head. Despite it being spring, it was still early enough in the year where the mornings were quite chilly.

You made it to your house, fumbling with the keys and walking in. You had to use the restroom, so you headed upstairs to the bathroom. Upon pulling down your pants, you noticed drops of blood staining your boxers. You sighed. What a great start to the day. You briefly considered it was a little early for your period to be starting, but you shrugged it off.

After doing your business, you decided to take a shower. The warm water might help your aching head. As you scrubbed yourself, you were overcome with a feeling of complete dirtiness. Grabbing more soap, you scrubbed harder. Nothing seemed to help. You were frustrated, and yet again, a state of panic fell over you. What was wrong with you?

Like phantom limbs, you felt the presence of hands unfamiliar to you all over your body. You freaked out, whirling around in your tiny shower, looking for the invisible culprit. The sensation crawled over you, tiny spiders. You started sobbing, and eventually, you found yourself sitting on the cold tile floor of your shower, tears falling from your eyes, staring at the drain as the water swirled into it, disappearing into the pipes. Blood fell from your skin where you scrubbed too hard, collecting with the soap suds, turning white to dark pink.

You squeezed your eyes shut, "Please… Please stop. Please stop crying." You didn't know what was happening. You felt like you were cracking, and the walls were closing in on you, silent unseen eyes watching you fall apart, naked and vulnerable, alone.

Karkat took a draw on his cigarette, smashing the A button on his Xbox controller. He cursed. Dave was kicking his ass at this stupid fighting game he had got.

"You're cheating, you asshole." Dave kept cornering Karkat's fighter to a certain part of the map that often glitched and caused his character to get stuck. Once stuck, he would beat the shit out of Karkat's character, and all he could do was watch helplessly, Dave smirking at the TV screen.

The Game Over screen flashed, and Karkat was announced the loser. He threw the controller on the ground, frustrated, "Goddammit!"

"I think it's time to get good, Karkat." Dave plucked the cigarette out of Karkat's lips and kissed him. Karkat blushed in response. He really couldn't get mad at his Matesprit.

"I think it's time for you to be a fair player, Dave." Karkat retorted, and Dave stuck his tongue out at him. Karkat growled, playfully, and kissed his human partner back.

They made out for a bit, then Karkat broke away, smiling. Dave's eyes burned into him as Karkat looked at the carpeting. Dave had been a little pushy lately with the intimacy. He wasn't complaining, but at times it could be draining, "Say, wanna invite John over? I think he'd like this game. We haven't hung out with him in a while, not since his birthday at least." John's birthday was about a month ago. Karkat had come over for a bit, and was one of the last ones to leave. Once hating the annoying dweeb, he had quickly become one of his best friends over the years.

Dave seemed, oddly enough, taken aback. He shook his head, "Nah… I don't think John wants to see me. Besides… We're kinda busy at the moment, aren't we?"

"What do you mean by J-" Karkat was interrupted as Dave kissed him hard on the lips. He shrugged it off mentally. Oh well, it must not be too important. They made out some more, Dave tugging incessantly at Karkat's sweater before the two decided to go upstairs.

Karkat awoke before Dave. It was eleven at night, and his nocturnal senses were kicking in. He got out of bed and put on his clothes. He was thinking about John ever since he had brought him up earlier, and felt like he should go visit himself if Dave wouldn't invite him over. He grabbed his pack of cigarettes on the bedside table and lit one, preparing to silently creep out of the bedroom. Dave stirred behind him and Karkat looked back.

"You headed home already?" Dave asked sleepily.

"Yeah, I've got stuff I gotta do." Karkat mumbled, teeth clamped on his cigarette as he took some draws.

"That sucks, man." Dave commented, watching as Karkat put on his shoes, "Dude, you should consider moving in with me. We've been dating for like five years. I'm lonely here without you, babe."

Karkat smiled at the nickname of adoration, "I know, but, I'm still not sure yet. You know how much I like my privacy and all." Dave looked away, seemingly upset, and Karkat quickly changed his tone, "But, I can still see myself living here. Let me think about it more tonight. I might be able to move in next month, okay?"

"I hope so. I'll be waiting for you." Dave yawned, curling back up underneath the sheets, "Night, Karkat."

"Goodnight, Dave." He stepped out of his Matesprit's bedroom and out of his house. Rather than taking the familiar directions back home, he took a side trip to John's house. He shivered. Even now, he wasn't used to the cold. He shoved his hands in his pockets, puffing on his cigarette and trying to keep as warm as he could in his thinly knit sweater.

Upon reaching John's house, he took the cigarette from his mouth, dropping it on the sidewalk and smearing it with the heel of his shoe. He coughed, clearing smoke from his lungs and looked at the windows. It was late, but one of the windows was lit, signaling that John might still be awake.

Overcome by a strange nervousness, Karkat sighed and walked to the front door. He reached a fist out, ready to knock, but his anxiety stopped him. He drew back, staring wistfully ahead at nothing except the white wood of the door. Hands shaking, he digged around in his pockets and drew out his last cigarette, lighting it and blowing smoke.

Why was he acting like this? It wasn't like he was intruding on anything. John was probably still awake. He sighed, rubbing his temples. He was starting to get lightheaded from the nicotine. Without looking back, he shrugged and walked off. A part of him always felt unwelcome around John. He had been an asshole to him, and he always felt like there was an awkwardness between the two, though he _wanted_ to consider John his best friend.

"He fucking hates me, what's the point?" Karkat muttered underneath his breath as he walked off, kicking stones underneath his feet, embracing the cold's shadow, alone.

You run your hands underneath the cool water of your sink, splashing it onto your face. Your clothes were drenched in cold sweat, and beads of it still ran down your forehead. Your head hurt so fucking bad. After you dried your face off, you grabbed the bottle of pain pills and opened it, popping some in your mouth.

You peeled off your clothes. They stuck to your skin like leather seats on a hot summer day. You stared at yourself in the mirror, becoming lost, your blue eyes dull and lifeless. Dark circles shadowed underneath your heavy lids. When was the last time you got any decent sleep since visiting Dave? You kept waking up, hyperventilating, but not being able to remember the nightmare that spooked you.

Turning off the bathroom light, you walked to the cojoined bedroom and crawled into bed, closing your eyes and falling back asleep.

Fear strikes you. Hands. There are hands all over you. They touch you, stroke your chest, down the front of your pants, inside you, shoving deep. _Get off me please. Who are you? Why are you doing this?_ You are pinned down, unable to move. When you scream, nothing comes out. It feels like your vocal chords have been snapped and ripped from your throat.

It all comes back in rapid flashes. Dave. His hands are on you. He touches your clit and smirks, voice laced with snake venom, _I thought so, you fucking tranny_. His fingers dig into you, parasitic. You're crying. This is your best friend, why is he doing this to you? Wasn't he dating Karkat? He removes his fingers and you run and run, but then you're falling, down. You see the coffee table, and it hits you.

You wake up screaming. Bile rises in your throat. Before you can get up, you lean over and vomit all over the carpet. Your lungs heave, throat hoarse. You think you hear his voice in the room with you. Wildly, you look around, see blurs of his shape dart around your bed like a predatory animal. His voice fills your head. _I love you, John. It's okay, I won't hurt you._ You close your eyes and hide under the covers but you can still feel his hands all over you, and a pressure inside you. It burns. It hurts so bad. Blood. You can feel it, dripping out of you, making a mess. _I'm not done yet, bitch_. You want him to kill you. You wish he had killed you, why didn't he kill you?

You scream some more, running back into the bathroom. You look at yourself in the mirror, eyes wild, hair a mess, deranged. You think you see Dave behind you, but when you look he disappears. Where is he? Your brain is on fire, and you're dizzy. You want to smash your head into the mirror. Just crack your fucking skull open.

You're not sure what to do. Are you still dreaming? You bite your own arm, nothing happens. Pain, pain, pain. You scream some more, look around frantically, delve into the drawer, take the straight razor your dad had. Without thinking, you slice into the skin on your wrist. Blood bubbles to the cut, dripping out. It hurts, but there's a relief to it. You keep cutting. You want to cut down to the bone, cut away your skin until there's nothing left. You don't want to feel anything.

Lightheaded, you fall to your knees. There's blood everywhere. As you ran out of your bed, your phone had fallen out of your pocket. It was laying there, on the tile floor, cracked screen glistening red. Weakly, blood still running out of your wrists, you scroll through your contacts and dial Rose. You choke back a sob as you hear the machine pick up. You wail into your voicemail and just start babbling. A beep sounds over the tiny speaker as the recording ends.

You scroll through more of your contacts, and see Dave's name. You only see hazy red. You dial his number. Of course, he picks up.

"Yo, John, what's up?"

"You fucking liar, Dave. You're a fucking liar. I hate you."

"... What? John, what are you talking about? Are you okay?"

"Stop it. Just stop. You know what you did. Don't lie. You fucking raped me."

The receiver crackled. Static silence spread for more than a minute. Your heart pounded in your chest, your teeth gritted, head throbbing in pain.

"Egbert, listen closely. If you tell _anyone_ about what happened, I will fucking kill you, do you understand? I'm not fucking around either. You're fucking dead if you say anything, that's a promise." The receiver clicked. Dave was gone.

You yelled, throwing your phone at the wall and curling on the tile floor, sobbing as you covered yourself in your own blood. Dave's words rang in your head. You weren't safe. Maybe you were never safe. You stared at your dad's razor. Images flashed before you, of his bloody body, slain by Jack Noir. You took it in your hands, plunged deeper and deeper into your flesh until you were alive from being close to death.


End file.
